Promise
Authors: Dani Wyatt
Promise
Copyright © 2016
by Dani Wyatt
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner.
Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Cover Credit:
Cormar Covers
Interior Design and Formatting:
Christine Borgford,
Perfectly Publishable
A NOTE TO MY READERS:
I appreciate every one of you.
Table of Contents
Sordid fun and other dirty shenanigans
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If you like your romance with a side
of rough and a dash of
dang
then step inside,
we’ve got snacks
.
This book is dedicated to the misfits;
the beautifully flawed and
the gloriously different.
May you never aspire to fit in.
Beckett
{10 years old}
“
Dad–
“
My lungs feel like the flames have moved inside. I hand him my sister in her charcoal-smeared unicorn pajamas.
“
Why
?” Dad’s voice is raw, his eyes full of hate. “Why didn’t you
listen
to me?
I told you,
I
told
you—” He buries his face into my sister’s tiny body only to raise his eyes and ask me the question I don’t want to answer. “
Where is your mother
? You didn’t even try, did you?
You didn’t even try
!” He scans the crowd, desperate, screaming at the men in yellow suits. “My wife’s in there! She’s
still in there
, please,
please God
, help her . . .
someone . . . please
.”
I remember my science fair project is sitting on the kitchen table. I have to turn it in tomorrow. I need him to be proud of me.
Last year, he helped me make an electromagnet—a super, duper one—and he tried to hide the tears when I won the blue ribbon for the best project out of every fourth grader in the Upper Cleveland School District.
Two paramedics rush toward me.
“
Get him in the ambulance
.” One of them yells as they grab at me, lifting me off my feet then strapping me down. “Call ahead to Children’s Hospital burn unit.”
That was the day I realized the pain that comes from outside is nothing compared to the pain that comes from inside. That was the day my childhood ended.
Beckett
{Eight Years Later}
I’ve got my hand over Denise’s mouth.
She’s the loudest woman I’ve ever fucked. Not that I’ve fucked that many, I have to be honest, but enough to know that Denise is
loud.
Her dime store, blue eyeshadow and the ever present snapping piece of Wrigley's Spearmint didn’t deter my cock from being seduced by my landlord.
She’s Mrs. Robinson with red hair and a tramp stamp.
Her thirty-something body is twisted under me like a pretzel, the crooks of her elbows locked around the bend of her knees, holding herself high and wide. It’s how she likes it, and it sets my dick coal-miner deep, so win-win.
I’m in fifth gear. The sound of wet flesh slapping and the bed denting the plaster wall must be heard in all seven bedrooms plus the kitchen of this makeshift boarding house on the low rent end of Cleveland’s ass. Denise is letting loose, bucking like we’re in a damn rodeo while I try to muffle her crazy-ass screams with my hand.
I mean,
come on.
All that noise is distracting as fuck. I like to know the chick taking it from me is getting off, but I don’t need the whole fucking zip code to know.
She’s about to toss us both off the mattress when I realize the sheet is tangled around my foot. If we don’t finish this up, I may end up in the ER with a snapped ankle and a story to tell. I’m trying to kick the twisted linen off and not miss a beat. This is the second round with her this morning, and I should be enjoying myself, right?
But, I can’t keep my eyes off the clock.
7:41 AM.
Wrap it up, Mrs. Robinson.
I take my hand off her mouth. Her dilated, red-rimmed, emerald eyes widen then she gasps.
“Oh gawwwddddd—oh god!”
She starts right up with the fucking noise, so I slap my palm back onto her mouth.
I tip my hips, grinding down into her until her eyes roll to white, and I feel the tightness start to grab my dick. Then, I feel a warm rush as she gushes and from the way she’s flouncing and quivering, I’m hoping she’s done.
The muscles in my back spasm when Denise let’s go and her ankles lock behind my ass. I knock the last thrust home, and my chin falls to my chest. I cum along with her. It’s a sense of relief, but that’s about it.
A minute later, I’m off the bed, the discarded latex already taking a spin into the sewer and the shower heating up.
“You . . .” She points to me, making that single word sound like an accusation.
Denise is propped up on the threadbare floral pillows, checking her manicure and snapping on a fresh piece of Wrigley’s. Her tits are motionless, silicone coconuts standing unnaturally high on her torso.
Personally, I prefer whatever size mother nature designed. I’ll take a double A true-blue over triple D fakery any day.
“You’re gonna get me in trouble, you know that? I shoulda never rented you that room.”
A touch of her Brooklyn roots comes through.
“How are you in trouble?” I put one hand on my forehead and one on my chin and jerk my head around. The twist and the
pop pop pop
as much a part of my morning routine as taking a piss.
